


The Glass Incinerator

by HoundstoothStiletto



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cinderella Elements, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28867710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoundstoothStiletto/pseuds/HoundstoothStiletto
Summary: All Garrus has to find the woman he danced with (and killed mercs with) is an incinerator that came off her omnitool. Is it enough to find her again?
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	1. The Dance

**Author's Note:**

> I'm getting into my ellipses phase...

Nalah Butler was the kind of Asari who would walk up to anyone and be their cousin. Sometimes aunt.

Maybe it was true. Sometimes.

But Garrus had serious doubts about this Batarian cousin, whose new bar Butler insisted they patronize.

"Jó is my wife's father's sister's great-great grandson's half brother," was his answer for why Garrus should go to Paladin's Pub. Which existed because someone thought Omega had a market for a quiet bar, where people could relax and hear themselves play games. 

For his sake, Garrus hoped it was a front because there was no such market on Omega. And watching Nalah and Jó talk...he didn't think either of them bought the long lost relative story. Whatever it was, it would be another resource for Archangel. Another place to get ship manifests and schedules, to store equipment, to hide behind. 

But Garrus wasn't there as Archangel - badass sexy vigilante. He was there as some Turian to taste the new dextro food. ("I don't like Quarian food" apparently means nothing to levos.) It was too salty, too sweet, too spicy, too spiced…

"It tastes like the best Quarian food I've ever had," he said dryly and got up to leave.

"And come back tonight, Archangel is going to make an appearance," Jó added happily. 

This was news to him, but Garrus didn't pause or skip or let anything reveal his reaction. He just delivered a noncommittal mumble and calmly walked away.

_Galaxy of Fantasy FREE tonight only! Come impress Archangel with your tactics! Archangel is recruiting and he'll be here! Tonight!_

There was no way Archangel would be there.

* * *

"No way Archangel will make an appearance. If he's as good as he's supposed to be - no half as good, he isn't going to advertise his location." Cur, Shepard's blood pack liaison paced.

Shepard agreed, but this event was a gift. 

"Archangel knows his enemies would think that," she calmly replied, forcing herself to keep her breath steady, to keep her rage masked. Fucking slavers. "This place is the safest place for Archangel. He'll be there."

Cur paused, probably thinking about the glory of taking out Archangel in such a place. 

"I'll scout it," she said. "And I'll call you when I see him."

* * *

Paladin's Pub was packed. Shepard realized she could have blended in with her heavy armor. Everyone was dressed up. But at least light armor made it easier to push her way to the bar. Kind of. 

A pale asari behind the bar waved and pointed to a very grumpy looking turian. Presumably because there was a spot next to him. Presumably grumpy because he was the only Turian without a cool cowl or cape. 

"I'm Nalah," the Aaari greeted, "and this is my husband and his friend," she pointed at the grumpy Turian. "Welcome! Are you here to impress Archangel?"

Shepard scoffed and plunked down next to Grumpy. "Archangel should be trying to impress me…" Nalah went to serve someone else. "So how did your wife get Archangel to show up here?"

Grumpy paused then laughed. "Nalah isn't my wife. And this isn't her bar."

A small dark human popped out from behind the Turian. "She's my wife! And it's Jó's bar."

He disappeared behind the Turian again. 

"You know, a lot of N7s have showed up tonight, but you're the only one in light armor," Grumpy said while scowling at the Galaxy of Fantasy screen up above. 

"I'm probably the only real one too," she added. 

That got his attention. "Are you?"

She shrugged. 

"Do you really think Archangel is here?" Grumpy asked. 

What a perfect question to start her plan. "Of course not. I actually know where Archangel is going to be tonight, and it's not here."

"Are you going to order anything?" Nalah interrupted and Shepard shook her head. No.

"I'll buy you a drink," Grumpy said and Nalah waited.

"I'd have to take this off," she said, tapping her helmet and lying, "and it's a bitch to put back on."

Nalah seemed to mutate into a nervously friendly Batarian. "Hi, I'm Jò, welcome-let-me-know-if-you-have-questions-get-you-a-drink?

Shepard got the hint. Grumpy (who also wasn't drinking, she politely did not point out) seemed to be waiting for her. 

"No thanks," she said standing up, thinking about what to do next. How could she spread her rumors away from the bartenders and others getting drinks? 

"Dance with me," she said, turning to Grumpy. This might even work better. 

* * *

Garrus let the N7 lead take him away from the bar, into a swarm of people. Who were not dancing. They were playing Galaxy of Fantasy or watching it be played.

There were a lot of people in N7 gear and most were human, but not all. A hanar with white stripes down half their legs, an Asari with N8 on her chest. There were probably more N7s in the Paladin's Pub than there were in the Alliance.

But this one was definitely a marine - current or former. And she was up to something. Was she there for Galaxy of Fantasy or Archangel? 

"Where did that naked asari have room to carry five sets of heavy krogan armor?" N7 asked, distracted by the game on the screen. No, she obviously had no idea what Galaxy of Fantasy was. (Which he would admit more people knew than he expected.) She was there for him. For Archangel.

It was time to actually dance. She, and therefore he, were getting unwelcome glares from her critiques. 

"So where is Archangel going to be?" Garrus asked quietly, swaying side to side. Moving his arms up and down. Dancing.

She faced him. And didn't dance back. Did she know who he was? Suddenly she stepped right into him, holding him in a very close hug. His arms pinned under hers. And then started stepping. Big steps. He needed to squat to move with her. 

"I know exactly where Archangel is going to be," she said loudly, getting even more attention than their movements were. Dancing?

She led him around in these big steps, people clearing out of their way. To be safe from her kicks, to watch, to listen to the mysterious N7 screaming about Archangel.

He couldn't see her face through that helmet, but he was sure she was very happy with herself.

* * *

Shepard was very happy with herself. Everything was going perfectly.

And she was doing pretty good at this dancing thing too - a bonus. 

She swung her dance partner and dipped him, ignoring his yelp and tightened grip.

"Archangel will be at Dock 4 when the Tupari ship comes in to refill the stocks," she said clearly. Everyone heard that.

In her smugness, she lost control. The Turian had taken her lead, the steps smaller, the twirls narrower. The crowd, smaller. And he looked annoyed. Fair.

"Is that a traditional human dance?"

"Yes, a very sexy traditional human dance. The tango," she nodded, then pointedly ignored a voice in the crowd who retorted that it was not a tango.

"So. Are you here to impress Archangel?" Shepard asked while wrestling, trying to get her arms back over his.

"No, I'm just here to support my friends, who for some reason think he'll show up," his arms stiff and strong. She'd have to break them to get back control this way and he knew it.

* * *

Whatever N7's game was, he wasn't going to be used for her attention gimmick again. He should also figure out what the hell the gimmick was for. He knew for a fact that Archangel had no plans for any Tupari shipment. 

She stopped trying to break his arms (thank the spirits) and before she could make her next move, he twirled her. A risk. 

She saw the game again. 

"That krogan died from the force of a slap?"

Garrus quickly eyed the game. A level 2 thief was meleed by a level 40 brawler. She really didn't know the game.

He couldn't ask her what her source was. He couldn't ask anything about the Tupari. She'd make a scene.

Whenever he felt her priming up for something, he simply moved her in a way for her to see the screen. And she'd complain again. (A rune is just a letter!) 

A few others were dancing now. This was kind of fun. He wondered what her next move would be. 

Suddenly she froze. He braced, ready for whatever she planned. 

"I have to go, let me go," she said and he loosened his grip. And she was gone. The parts of him that she was pressed against felt naked. It took him a moment to realize she was really gone. 

He pushed his way back to the bar. Suddenly lonely and confused. There was a huge gap in the picture he had. 

Butler was behind the bar now, seemingly eating his wife's mouth. He knew it was kissing, but still. They looked like they were chewing.

"When does the Tupari shipment come in?" He asked quietly.

Butler was back. "Did you hear Archangel would be there?" He laughed, wiping his mouth.

"I really don't think Archangel cares about Tupari," Garrus muttered as Butler flashed him the schedule the bar had. 15 minutes. Just enough for her to get there.

* * *

Shepard walked quickly, pulling up Cur's information. "Archangel wasn't there," she said, hoping she sounded remorseful and a little scared. Damn Turian had her off her game.

"Of course he wasn't," Cur laughed. "Archangel is going to be at Dock 4. Get there now."

"Dock 4? Are you sure? I'll be there. Sorry I didn't -"

"Just be there. And don't forget the docks were renumbered."

"Right," Shepard said, as if she would forget. She was the one who renumbered them.

* * *

Garrus meant it when he said that Archangel was absolutely not going to go to Galaxy of Fantasy night. 

He meant it when he said Archangel had no reason to go after Tupari.

He meant it when he told himself he wasn't going to follow this woman without backup. 

He watched her approach Dock 4. He recognized some of the people waiting for him - Blue Sun, Eclipse. Rumors went fast. 

But N7 kept on walking. And walking. And walking. To Dock 22?

He watched her walk right up to a Krogan in red armor, Vorcha scattered around. She was working with the Blood Pack. 

* * *

"Look, it still says Dock 22. How are people supposed to know they changed? Where's Archangel?" Cur greeted her. 

Shepard shrugged to both questions. 

"You're great at the hacking thing kid, but you've got a long way to go for getting any other kind of info." 

"But that solves why Archangel is on his way," Cur said happily. The Batarians settling off the Tupari ship were slavers. Cur called out a greeting (an old friend).

He was as unguarded as he would get. 

Shepard lit him on fire.

She ducked into a convenient pile of crates as the shooting started. The timing was off. She should have been earlier. And now with Vorcha behind her, shooting, and Batarians in front of her, shooting, there were enemies everywhere!

She cursed the Paladin Pub Turian. She lost track of time because she was dancing. _Dancing_. 

As Cur started to get up, a shot took back down. She risked a peek. If her backup was here...

No. It wasn't Gryll. The Paladin Pub Turian was there. Except he didn't look the type of guy who watches people play video games. He looked like...

Oh. He was Archangel. And he only had a pistol. Shepard ripped her incinerator mod off her omnitool between shooting enemies. 

She threw it to him, "keep them from regenerating! I'll take the slavers!" And hoped he would catch it. 

* * *

He did. 

Garrus held the incinerator to his omnitool as he moved closer. Things were happening too fast for him to be relieved she was on his side.

The incinerator would not snap in. Something in the port was probably chipped; it was glass after all. As he threw flames at the Vorcha and occasionally twitching Krogan he just wanted this to be over. Fast.

This is not how he fought. He should be taking out the slavers from afar and she should be incinerating the Blood Pack since she was closer… 

And then it was over. 

Garrus stopped to assess the scene. N7 was catching her breath, and everyone else should be dead...

Aha! One more Vorcha. He reached for his pistol. 

"Stop!" N7 yelled. "Not him!"

"I'm a mole!" The Vorcha added helpfully.

"I'm happy to see you, Gryll," she said before turning back to Garrus. "Without him I never could have gotten in with the Blood Pack. I would still be looking for the slavers."

Ok. That explained enough for now. There were more questions. They could be answered without that helmet. Maybe over a drink. Incinerator ports would definitely be discussed.

There were now only a few piles of crates between them. He reached over to hand her back the incinerator. In another step she could grab it. She started to take off her helmet...

"Run!" Gryll screeched. Mercs. A lot of mercs were approaching. Guess they figured out what Tupari shipment Archangel would intercept.

"Gryll! This way!" N7 ran to the Tupari ship.

He watched the ship start and then he slipped away. He wasn't Archangel tonight. He was just some Turian, unhappily full of salty Quarian food and very wrong about the games market on Omega. 

Garrus had the incinerator in one hand and shook the other to cool it. Glass can get hot. 


	2. The Key

15 years ago

"The Tupari guys already came this morning," Shepard told the ship trying to dock on Mindoir. She didn't want to say that. It wasn't her job. It was her boyfriend's job and he left her at his station. 

"Just watch it a sec, I'll be right back. Nothing is coming, you don't have to do anything." He was so sure. Famous last words.

"Jerk," she muttered. 

"What's happening?" She heard him ask, finally coming back. 

"The stupid Tupari company accidentally sent a double order. No one on Mindoir drinks that much of it. It's gross."

Mike groaned. "Yeah, they mess up the orders all the time. I'll go talk to them. Then we can get going."

"Fine," Shepard huffed. 

It was the last thing she ever said to him. 

* * *

Shepard caressed a divot her omnitool. The port was useless now. Unless she went all the way back to Omega to find it again. Which was not worth it. 

She got the Tupari slavers, a group shadowing real Tupari shipments and able to get in and out of places by relying on the company's reputation for inconsistent deliveries.

There wasn't much she wouldn't sacrifice for that. For her parents, her sisters, her friends, her boyfriend who was probably cheating on her...It was a beautiful incinerator though. 

But, more importantly there were more Tupari slavers, and she'd need to go back to Alliance to knock them all out. Or, remembering rumors of a human spectre, maybe she had other options.

"Going back to Omega?" She asked her friend. 

"Yes, I take over Blood Pack," Gryll replied. "New era!"

"Here," she handed him her wiped omnitool. "Archangel has the incinerator that goes with it. If you get it, it's unhackable and they only fit each other...if not it's better than the one you have."

"Happy to work with you!" Gryll took it, confirming their agreement was over. He got her the slavers, she got him set up to take over a mercenary group. And, as a bonus, he might get a gorgeous and perfect incinerator mod.

* * *

Garrus took the incinerator mod back from Sensat. "Well, what's wrong with the port?"

"Nothing, it's customized," Sensat said. "That's not going to go into just omnitool. Those grooves aren't chipped off pieces of glass, they're like a key."

Garrus nodded. Before Sensat started on the history of keys, he asked "So, there's only some omnitools this will go in?"

"Only one. It's customized. You can tell because..."

He was getting the history of keys anyway. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that he could find her. He just needed to find the omnitool that the mod fit into. 

Unfortunately, Garrus quickly figured out that asking random human women if he could test his mod in their port was unwelcome. To put it mildly. 

But, word that Archangel was looking for someone? He could get far with that. And Archangel could take advantage of his popularity at Paladin's Pub. 

"Put out the word," he asked Nalah, "Archangel was at Paladin's Pub that night and he's looking for someone."

 _Does Archangel have the key to you?_ _Come by Paladin's Pub to see if you're a fit! Mention this ad and get 50% off Galaxy of Fantasy. True love awaits!_

"Um." Garrus was once again speechless with Paladin's Pub announcements. "Did you take out what I said about human and military?"

"We took out everything you said," Nalah explained as Jó nodded seriously. 

"Estimated arm span won't bring in customers," he added. 

Fine. That could be fine. Too many details could be dangerous. But, "True love? Why is that there?"

"Just trust us. Everyone is helpless for a love story. We'll find your girl," Nalah said exasperated. 

"You can have the wedding reception here," Jó said. 

"If it's good for business," Garrus grumbled. The bar was too useful an asset to argue with. There were a lot of Asari maidens who put on the role of an old grizzled pirate playing Kepesh-Yakshi over cordials and he could barely keep up with the number of tips and leads they revealed in their bragging. 

No, he needed good business for the bar. So, he needed another tactic. 

* * *

Archangel is in love turned out to be a great tactic. 

While Garrus couldn't say he agreed that _everyone_ was helpless for a love story, it seemed close enough to anyone. 

Things started to get a little easier. Omega seemed to get more on his side. A tip, a wink, a nudge, a good luck. 

Paladin's Pub was getting even more popular - the place Archangel fell in love. 

Even if it turned out to be an advantage, Archangel was getting annoyed. Especially when someone was making money on this love story. 

"It's good that Jó didn't say what kind of person you're looking for," Melanis explained, putting up a picture of a Turian looking longingly at a Quarian across from explosions. "Otherwise we wouldn't get stuff like this."

"Did you buy that? Is that a Fleet and Flotilla promotional pic?" Garrus asked. 

"I did and it isn't anymore," she explained, pointing to badly edited blue armor with a yellow splotch on it. "Are you sure she wasn't a Quarian?"

"Yes," Garrus said definitively. He would not mention she didn't take off her helmet again. Ever. 

All he wanted to do was return a mod. (And maybe to see her face. To make an alliance with the woman who wandered onto Omega, crippled the Blood Pack and wandered off. To buy her that drink.) 

He did not want to marry her in a bar full of people dressed up as them, celebrating Archangel and his girl. Or, his guy, as some told it. 

* * *

"Boss, we got your girl."

They did?

"Gorgeous, looking for Archangel, said you've got an incinerator mod for them and wants to talk about bringing down the Blood Pack? Said you met attacking the Tupari slavers? Sounds right?" Melanis said, a bit too calmly. She was up to something. A prank, probably. 

But yeah, sounds right. Deep breath. It sounds so right. 

Archangel entered the Paladin's Pub backroom, gently holding a glass incinerator. 

He heard Nalah talking. 

"I understand. Sometimes you gotta be someone else. I mean if I hadn't stolen Nalah Butler's identity, I never would have met my husband."

Oh, this story again. He had to interrupt before it got to her half sister's uncle's librarian. 

"I no steal," a Vorcha said before happily greeting, "Archangel!"

Melanis looked very happy with herself. And the Vorcha was not the N7 soldier he danced with. 

"This," Nalah gestured, "is Gryll."

Gryll. The mole. It was something. Garrus slowly sat down across from him. Watching his every breath. 

"Is this your omnitool?" He asked, both knowing who he had last seen it on. 

"It is now! A gift from Herder. She say you have incinerator for it," Gryll held out his arm.

Herder. A name. Good. 

Melanis snatched the incinerator and tested it. It fit with a satisfying and sturdy click into place. He wanted to do that. 

"So. Gryll. You wanted to talk Blood Pack?" His gut told him he could let the Vorcha keep the incinerator. But, it was a good incinerator. And he could be a good ally. Or not.

They had a lot to discuss. 

* * *

2 years later

Being the first human spectre came with a lot of privileges, including seeing the should-be bane of her existence retire. Except he didn't bother her the way he did so many of her spectre colleagues. 

She waved her keycode by the door and walked in. 

"Detective," she greeted Castis Vakarian.

"Spectre," he said politely, a vague threat that he'd still be tracking her would-be crimes, which he did to all spectres, she was told. All spectres however, were not invited. As far as she could tell just her and Jondam Bau - the last ones he'd arrest. If he could arrest spectres.

Shepard sat down at the bar. Spectre privileges did not include free time. The nagging to-do list in her head reminding her that her incinerator mod needed to be cleaned and refueled. After all the energy that went into making another one, she was keeping this one pristine. But, it was worth it. 

"Can't hack glass and key grooves" she thought happily, giving it an affection flick. 

A Turian sat next to her and gave her a look. 

"I'm not available to dance," she said, gathering her accessories closer together, giving him space. 

"I don't want to dance with you."

She raised a brow and looked at him. And actually... "You look familiar," she said. 

"So do you," he said, looking intently at her incinerator mod. It was making her uncomfortable. 

"Well, I am kind of famous."

He looked up at her again. Then back at her mod.

"Are you Commander Shepard, first human spectre?" He said, clearly trying not to touch her omnitool mods. 

"That's me," she hastily started to put her omnitool back together. A retirement party isn't a good place to refill fuel.

He nodded. "Garrus Vakarian, you probably know me because I look like my dad…. _Jane_ Shepard?"

"Congrats, you found my wikinet write up."

He was getting ahead of her on something and she didn't like it. He was figuring something out. Something about her incinerator. He didn't look that much like Castis Vakarian to her. 

But where did she know him from? It was annoying. 

Oh. That's where she knew him. Archangel. A little giddy thrill jumped through her. She couldn't hide her smugness or self satisfaction. She figured it out. 

(Castis Vakarian's son was Archangel? No wonder he was so sensitive about technicalities and rules. No wonder Archangel was, well, Archangel.)

"But you're kind of famous too, aren't you?" Archangel, she didn't say. It was heavy between them. 

He looked right at her and oh holy blue eyes. Cool and cold, and she was suddenly quite thirty. 

He didn't answer. Instead he cleared his throat and gestured to her hand. 

"Actually, I would like to dance."

"And actually I am available," she was almost done with her omnitool...

* * *

Right as she was finishing her maintenance, right before she could, he snatched her mod, cool and clean. Doing the stupidest and most audacious thing he ever did, Garrus ignored her scandalized face and slipped it into her omnitool. A perfect fit, he felt the precision down to his bones as it slid in and locked. 

"It's not safe to touch a spectre's toys like that," she said annoyed. 

He stood up. It was stupid and risky, but for two years, the desire to slide that mod in had been building up. Only a little bit of it was relieved. 

"I thought we were dancing," some very stupid part of him said. He didn't drink that much, had he? Or was it the high of her? 

She crossed her arms. 

Time to be a gentleman, he thought and stood up and offered her a hand. Which she took. He had no idea what he would have done otherwise. Besides cancel the unscheduled Paladin's Pub wedding reception. 

"You look familiar apart from your father," she said. 

An arm around her waist. Very holdable. Firm. Supportive. 

Step.

"I don't know where you could have seen me. I've been in the Terminus," he replied, not sure where this false ignorance game was going. 

Step step. She was trying to get control. Nope. Not this time. 

"I heard the Terminus got cleaned up since Archangel showed up." 

Step. 

"I heard Archangel was fighting a lost war until a mysterious human showed up and tipped the fulcrum enough -"

Step step. Kick. He glared at her, and she showed him a faux innocent face that crossed all species lines. 

"- enough to change the momentum and the tides in his favor," he finished. 

"And how did this human do that?"

"She started a chain of events that weakened the Blood Pack and everything went down from there."

Step. Step step. 

Who would break first? 

"I couldn't go back to Omega," she whispered. "Between the Alliance and Spectre jurisdiction, I didn't have the chance."

At the same time he murmured into her hair, "Gryll told me your name was Jane Herder. I couldn't find you."

She snorted. "Herder?" 

He shrugged and led her away from the main floor. Someplace private. 

"Where are you staying?" They asked at the same time. 

Shepard giggled. Garrus rubbed his neck, "my dad's couch" he answered, just a little embarrassed. Not very sexy vigilante. 

"Presidium Hotel, room 332."

Fuck. He could take her right there. She'd let him. Or, the other way around.

Oh, wait. One more thing. 

"So this dance is a traditional human dance," he said and started stepping again. He gently touched her thigh, an encouragement. 

"Is it?" Her leg slowly rose up, wrapped around him. Hot. Soft. 

"The tango. Very sexy," he dipped her back, her leg tightening around him. 

She was breathing hard.

"Presidium Hotel, room 332," Garrus repeated. 

* * *

"Yes. Keycode 0987." she added before rising up just enough to kiss him. His mouth plates hard, but moved just a bit. Just enough. With her lips. Oh yes. 

She needed to know if he thought of her at any point over the last two years. She would find out. Soon. His grip tightened, and she wrapped her arms around his cowl. 

Now. She would find out now. Obviously the answer was yes, but it was worth asking. 

"Garrus?" Detective Vakarian was there.

"Dad! Hi, uh," Garrus straightened out and stepped away. 

Castis nodded at Shepard as if he didn't find his son with a Spectre on and under him. 

"Your mother was looking for you," he continued. Garrus looked at Shepard, some desperation in his eyes. 

"Detective, Garrus," she stepped back to let them leave. 

"0987," Garrus said as he left. 

She nodded. That was the key. 

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!


End file.
